Touch me, Trust me
by Built on the Horizon
Summary: They thought she was dead, but fifteen years after the war ended, Peter found Claire again, abandoned, forgotten... lost.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**_ They thought she was dead, but fifteen years after the war ended, Peter found Claire again, abandoned, forgotten... lost._

**Characters/Pairings: **_AU Peter/Claire (i.e., not related), Peter centric, Claire centric, mentions of others._

**Rating: **_T. Angst, psychological trauma_

**Genre: **_Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Drama, Romance ._

**Spoilers: **_I'm not exactly sure where this fits into the actual Heroes storyline. It's set some time in the future. Peter has all his original powers and Claire can't feel pain. Sylar is still Sylar._

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Heroes or any related material. Come to think of it, the plot bunny isnt even mine._

* * *

It's been decades.

The Company was gone, burnt to the ground twenty years ago.

Building 26 has been closed for twelve years.

Clair has been missing for fifteen.

They were old now; the fight had left most of them, most, except Peter. Peter didn't age, not any more, not since Homecoming. He met with Molly Walker today, a bright young woman with a full and busy life, children running around her ankles. It reminded him just how old he was, how much he missed Claire.

That night, he fell asleep at his desk, fitfully dreaming of blond hair and blood-stained cheerleader outfits and dark shadows on lockers.

When he woke up, a thumbtack was pushed into the world map above his desk.

Utah.

'Holy crap.' He whispered.

She was alive.

* * *

He wasted no time in finding her. He spent years trying to find her when she went missing, and even longer grieving.

He needed to find her.

Even though the underground facility had been abandoned for over a decade, the thick metal door was still locked shut.

He pressed his hands against it.

Ice. Heat. Ice.

The metal buckled and cracked.

Heat. Ice.

Peter slammed his weight into the steel door. The metal relented and light broke into the cell for the first time in twelve years.

A narrow bed was bolted to the wall, a figured curled up with their back to him.

Blond curls spilled over the edge.

* * *

_She was on the beach, her toes digging into the golden sand. Lyle was getting buried by his nephew. The sun was warm, her skin prickling in the heat._

_It hurts. A little._

* * *

'Claire.' He whispered, squatting beside the bed. He checked the back of her head, no injuries.

He gently rolled her over to face him. 'Claire?'

_Peter doesn't come here. He doesn't like the beach. She frowns at his voice. What are you doing here?_

She's alive. She's awake. She's not responding.

'Come on, Claire.' He urged, rolling her face towards him. 'Say something, anything.'

She stared at him for a moment so he gently felt into her mind.

_Go away, Peter. I talked to you yesterday_.

Anything but that.

'I'm here, Claire. I'm not leaving you.' Peter promised.

She rolled back over to face the wall.

_I'm not in the mood for games today_.

'I'm not playing games, I'm here.' Peter said firmly.

A small huff escaped her, the first sign of real life he had seen from her.

_Not today. He'll go in a moment. I want to go back to the beach._

'You're not on a beach. You're in a cell in a government facility.' Peter said slowly.

She rolled over onto her back.

_I told you never to tell me that again_.

Her eyes were glazed and milky.

'I'm not a hallucination.' Peter reached out to touch her, but his hands faltered in mid-air. 'I'm right beside you. You have to believe me.'

_You're listening to my mind, Peter, just-_

His fingers grazed her cheek and she hissed, pulling away. She blinked and her eyes became focused on the ceiling. She turned her head, and saw his face.

'Oh, Claire, what did they do to you?' he muttered.

She looked exactly how he remembered fifteen years ago, but her face was blank, emotionless… blank.

_You cut your hair_

Her hand twitched where it rested, like she wanted to reach out but couldn't.

_I always liked it longer_

Gently, Peter lifted her hand to touch his hair. Her fingers curled slightly and grazed against his scalp.

The touch must have pulled her back to reality. Her hands trailed down his face and her expression changed for the first time in years.

Child-like wonder.

Her throat was dry from lack of use and extreme dehydration over the years, but her cracked lips opened.

'Peter?'

* * *

**We're in for a lot of hurt/comfort and angst, but the romance will definitely make its way in there! Please review! I'm a sucker for reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It took half an hour before she eventually managed to stand. She spent ten long minutes just shifting her weight on the bench, shying away from his touch and shuffling her limbs. Her breathing was erratic and she felt that maybe, she should be crying. If she had the tears.

She simply didn't have the strength left in her to push herself up, Peter had to help, lifting her and settling her on her own limbs.

She crouched, huddled on the narrow bed and staring at the floor for a long moment.

_It's a long way down_.

He heard her idle thought and shifted closer.

'I'm right here, Claire.' He said.

She glanced up at him with wide eyes. She shifted and managed to swing her legs out from under herself. Her toes barely graze the concrete.

With a weak push, she slid from the bed and fell. Peter managed to catch her limp form and cradled her against his chest.

She shivered from his touch, the only real human contact she received in fifteen years.

He stood slowly, pulling her to her feet and holding most of her weight.

'What first?'

_Water_ she thought purposefully _I want to talk to you_

He carefully led her out of the cell. Claire was tentative, unsure, but Peter was patient. He made sure she was stable, leaning against the wall before he dashed down to the antiquated vending machine. It was covered in dust, and everything would be out of date, but several bottles of water would do. He smashed through the glass and grabbed a bottle.

Claire let out a whimper at the crash, sudden noise hurting her sensitive ears.

'Here.' Peter said, holding out an opened bottle.

Claire's eyes slid down to the hand holding the water, thin trails of blood oozing out of fresh wounds. Glass was forced out and fell to the ground with tiny tinkling.

A small gasp escaped her and she glanced down to her own hands.

He touched her clothed shoulder gently. Her lips opened and he slowly brought the bottle to them.

One small sip and she fell to the floor, retching and coughing up what little water she swallowed.

'Shh…' Peter calmed, running at her back soothingly.

Claire coughed and panted. 'More.' She wheezed.

Hesitating, he brought the bottle to her lips and she swallowed the smallest sip. Then another.

She opened her mouth and spoke. 'They bled me, Peter, they bled me until I died then they bled me more.'

It was hardly above a whisper, and it broke his heart.

'Little miss miracle grow.' She scoffed.

Peter swallowed hard and encouraged her to sip some more water.

Her hands shook unsteadily and she turned to him with wide eyes filled with hope.

'I knew that if they needed my blood, then someone out there was still fighting. I knew you were still looking for me. I never gave up hope.'

Peter's eyes dropped guiltily. He had given up hope. For three years after Claire was kidnapped, he had waged a war against the government facility. He was enraged, furious at Noah for allowing his daughter to be experimented on. Then he found the file, a report on rapid regeneration, saying "the Bennet girl" had been permanently killed and incinerated.

He refused to believe it, he went into a fury and killed most of the scientists associated with the program, and then, eventually, he fell into despair.

Slowly, he helped her to her feet.

'Can you walk?' he asked.

Claire gave an unsteady nod. She looked up at the hallway and trembled.

'We need to get out of here.' She whispered urgently. 'They'll be coming soon.'

Peter was taken aback for a moment, and she continued.

'I think they figured out a way of duplicating my blood or something. They starved me, didn't want to waste tax payers money.' A small laugh escaped her. 'But they'll be here soon. They would have seen…'

Peter's eyes widened in realisation and his heart cut with pain. She still thought she was a prisoner; that the government agents were still in the complex, studying her.

He didn't even know where he could start explaining.

'Come on.' He muttered. 'Let's get out of here before they… realise.'

Claire nodded, her blond curls bouncing slowly. Halfway down the hallway, her fingers clanked around his arm in dread and she froze.

_The camera_ he heard her think.

With a bolt of electricity, Peter destroyed the camera and it exploded into fragments. He mentally made the elevator doors fly open into the empty shaft.

'Do you think you could cope with flying?' he asked, concerned.

Claire looked woozy for a moment and he remembered just how much effort it took for her to walk slowly down the hallway. She became distraught for a moment and he hurried to correct himself.

'Its okay, it's okay. We don't have to fly.' He assured her.

'I'm not used to moving.' She admitted quietly.

Telekinetically, he pulled the elevator towards them and forced the doors open. Claire stepped inside, clutching the bottle of water to her chest like a vice. She stood on the furthest side of the elevator, with her back pressed against the wall.

'That's not fair.' She whispered.

Peter noticed the mirror spanning the wall facing her. Her own reflection must have looked haggard, hollow. A shadow of how she remembered herself. With a sympathetic movement, he stepped between her and the mirror. Automatically, she craned her neck to look over his shoulder.

Peter stepped closer, and she kept on looking at her reflection. He moved until he was directly in front of her, his body blocking her vision completely.

Peter suddenly became hyper aware of how close they were standing. Every nerve ending felt raw and alert. Her breath ghosted over his neck and his hand came to rest protectively on her shoulder.

Something in Claire's body shifted. Her head tilted and her eyes went blank. Her lips parted slightly, but all emotion left her face.

'No, no, no, Claire, don't do this.' Peter urged, brushing hair from her face, but consciously, she was gone.

He led her, in this near-catatonic state, out of the psychic-propelled elevator and to the surface. After jimmying open a car and jolting it to life with an electric shock from his fingertip, he secured Claire in the passenger seat and covered her in his jacket.

His hands slipped from the steering wheel more times than he could count on the way to the small, dingy hotel. Claire was totally lifeless beside him, rolling with every bump in the road and face devoid of expression.

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What do you think? Please please please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

For hours, Peter could get no reaction out of her. Talking to her felt like having a conversation with a brick wall. Any touch and she seemed to retreat even further into herself.

He drove far enough away from anywhere that they could go into hiding, where nothing around reminded him of the Company or hospitals or interrogation rooms. Claire gave no response when he told her that he'd booked a motel room, when he opened the passenger side car door and extended a hand that she didn't take, when he slowly and carefully shepherded her into the dark room with terrible décor.

Peter hurried to make the room more hospitable, switching on dim lights and opening the heavy curtains a crack just to allow some light to filter inside in dusty ribbons.

Hyper sensitive hearing on alert for any change in Claire noticed an irregular heartbeat. He turned around quickly and watched her shuffle closer to the window.

Claire flinched away from the murky sunlight that shifted against her skin before grasping the curtains in her small hands. They curled into fists slowly, and Peter noticed how her tendons had to strain to exercise that little control. With very deliberate movements, she closed the curtains against the light.

'Not just yet.' She murmured. She turned around slowly.

'Peter?'

He stepped forward, watching her carefully.

'Claire?'

'Just checking.'

Something strange washed over her and chilled her bones, a fresh sense of realisation.

'You're actually here.' She said. 'As in, rescue mission here.'

'Yes. I'm here… right here, Claire.'

'Oh, God.' Claire stared wide eyed for a moment, the blue of her irises shining in the dim light of the motel room. Then she lowered herself to the scratchy carpet, vacantly preoccupied. 'Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.'

Something inside Peter ripped to bits and he knelt down by the long lost woman, placing a hand on the loose strands of hair hanging over Claire's shoulder. 'I'm sorry.' He muttered, his voice breaking against his wishes. 'I'm so sorry I took this long.' Claire had been alive, waiting. He'd abandoned her because Peter believed a crapped report from the untrustworthy Company.

Claire looked up, seeing Peter again, sitting right beside her, and she clutched his arm.

If this wasn't real, it was the best hallucination she'd created so far, and she'd be damned before she'd let it go.

'Claire, when did this happen? How long have you been alone?'

Claire's eyes moved around the room, but her mind lost track of what it was searching for. Her eyes fell on his face again and recognition returned. 'What?'

Peter patiently repeated. 'How long have you been alone, Claire?'

Claire's hand moved through the air, as if she was creating the memory in the space in front of her.

'They stopped feeding me.' She said finally.

'When?' Peter pressed gently.

Her fingers twitched, like she was counting numbers in her mind.

'They said it was my birthday.' She said softly. 'Three times. I got cake. That's the last thing I ate.'

'Oh, God.' Peter breathed. Claire was taken fifteen years ago. They stopped feeding her because Building 26 was closed twelve years ago. The scientists were sent running because of Peter's rage against them and left the bastards left her underground. No food, water, no chance of escape.

'How long has it been?' Claire asked, voice innocent and inquiring.

He couldn't lie to her. He just couldn't.

'Thirteen years since then.'

Thirteen? Claire bent her head to the side, still not fully understanding the weight of the words. Surely it was more. Two decades at least.

'I made my own birthdays.' Claire confessed. 'I had twenty-eight of them. You were always invited.'

Peter hung his head, unable to speak. All those first months, desperately searching for Claire, knowing, believing, that he could save her. But then he found the report. Death was death, even for the regenerating girl, and incineration made sure that she wasn't coming back.

What might they have accomplished in the years since then, had Claire been with them? What people saved, what madmen stopped? What days made more pleasant by her company?

Peter could answer _that_ one. All of them.

_All_ of them. Every single day.

'Claire?'

'Peter?'

'Just checking.'

* * *

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You really helped me force out this chapter. Please review! Tell me what you want from or in this story? I've got a framework, but any particular requests will be seriously considered.**

**Please review!**


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